The Bad Wish
by Madam Mimm
Summary: "Be careful what you wish for, it might come true"... but it's only ever the bad wishes. On the night of Neitherworld Carnival, BJ and Lydia both say stupid things that lead to a world of trouble. T, but might be a bit M later on.
1. Chapter 1 The Incident Day zero

It wasn't meant to happen.

Not even a scum-sucking, utterly repugnant bastard of a ghost like Beetlejuice would plan something like this. But now, here he was, staring around at a situation that would... hell, _should_ be everything he ever dreamed of. And all he wanted was out.

He knew exactly how it all happened, which was a refreshing change from wondering exactly how or where everything fell apart, he supposed. It had started a mere five days ago, when Lydia (sweet, innocent, fifteen year old Lydia) had visited the Neitherworld to see the Street Carnival that happened once every twenty years. It was the spectacle to end all spectacles; the grossest, creepiest, most horrifyingly scare-tastic night of the Neitherworld calendar, and Lydia was struck dumb by the sheer immensity of it. Every ghost, ghoul, monster and mage got involved, from preparing food to cleaning spaces, to dressing up in carnival wear and parading through the endless twisting stretches of road. Even, to her surprise, Beetlejuice.

"What are you wearing?" Lydia gasped, as he opened the door to her. He shot her a quizzical look, before examining his clothes. He was wearing pristine white boots, which curled up into a crescent at the toes, and a white suit that was splashed with a colour Lydia couldn't quite pinpoint. Sometimes it looked purple, but she could swear it was changing, even as she looked at it, to brown, or red, or even green.

"It's my carnival suit, babes." Beetlejuice looked at her, quizzically. "You're not going in that, are you?"

"What's wrong with my cloak?"

"Sacre simulacra!" Jacques declared, spotting Lydia as she entered. He, too, was wearing white, only his was a pair of dungarees, over a white shirt with light yellow swirls printed onto it. "Lydia, you cannot go to the carnival dressed in red!"

"You gotta wear white at the carnival, babes." Beetlejuice looked her up and down, scratching his dead, blonde locks and dislodging a large amount of dead skin in the process. "Did I not mention that?"

"No." Lydia felt very self-conscious, embarrassed at apparently violating a grand tradition. She stared at the floor, fighting off a blush. She'd been, as Delia had tactlessly tutted, "emotionally unstable" lately, which was apparently very normal for girls her age, but that didn't make her feel any better. Especially since that was all anyone ever told her. When she got upset or felt tired or angry for no good reason, all her friends and family told her that it was just her hormones, and that it was a sign of her growing up. Well... almost everyone. There was one person who didn't seem to notice the fact that she was fifteen now. That she was a young woman. And, as she resolutely avoided his gaze, she wondered if he ever would, biting back a scream as he ruffled her hair.

"Don't sweat it, Lyds." BJ pointed his finger at her, and she was suddenly wearing the same cloak, except now it was a snowy white, but with a blood red cobweb.

"Ooh, deadly vu!"

Beetlejuice laughed and winked at her, instantly evaporating all her frustration. In the background, Jacques and Ginger rolled their eyes at each other. They'd noticed how much Lydia had grown. They'd also noticed how her feelings for BJ had... "grown" too, which was more than could be said for the ghost himself. He was completely clueless as to how much Lydia adored him, and they had shared the thought more than once that someone was going to get hurt before Lydia got much older.

"Come on, we gotta be there for the opening!"

So, accompanied by Jacques, Ginger, the Monster Across The Street and Poopsie, they made their way into town, laughing and talking jovially. Beetlejuice was almost being... civil.

"Beej, what gives? You haven't tried to prank or con anyone all night..."

"It's Carnival, Lydia." Ginger grinned, from her position on the Monster's white Stetson. "All bets are off. It's like the old legend says, "All you say on Carnival night will be with you 'til you set it right"."

"What does that mean?" She giggled, as Beetlejuice grabbed her under the arms and lifted her onto his shoulders.

"It means that, if you say anything out of line, it'll come back and bite you. Hard."

Lydia wasn't sure she believed it any more than she believed any other superstition, but then, superstition seemed to be taken a lot more seriously in the Neitherworld. Possibly, she thought, because of their tendency to take everything very, very literally.

The opening ceremony was a fright to behold. Every ghost within a fifty mile radius was stood, or sat, or floating around the doors to the town hall, where Mayor Maynot stood, in a pressed white suit, in front of a brilliantly deep violet curtain.

"My friends." He spoke into the microphone, everyone fell instantly silent. The entire town seemed to be a dusky umber, making the white bodies appear to shine. "My citizens. My... future citizens. Tonight is the night we Dead celebrate just what we are... Dead! May you all speak and hear kind words, and may you all see sights that will mesmerise and terrify. May this lead to the greatest two decades on record!"

A cheer went up from the crowd, deafening, and yet invigorating. A mechanical whir started up as, seemingly from nowhere, fairground rides, fireworks displays and merchant booths prepared for business.

"Back in a sec, babes." Beetlejuice leant over and whispered in Lydia's ear. "Watch this!" He drifted up into a clear patch or sky, directly above Town Hall, with several other ghosts. There were approximately twenty of them, and Lydia watched open mouthed as they began to rotate in a circle.

"Ah, this is the unveiling." Jacques leant down, whispering to Lydia. "The few most powerful ghosts and poltergeists work together to unveil something new and spectacular each time... I wonder what this shall be?"

The ghosts revolved, faster and faster, slowly glowing until they were just a ring of light. The velvet curtain behind the mayor dropped, in time with a thunderclap, and electric blue raindrops fell from the sky at the same time a flood of green... something... cascaded across the ground, flooding everyone's shoes and spreading as far as the eye could see.

"Yuck!" Lydia exclaimed, lifting her stained feet off the ground.

"Naw, that's good luck!" The Monster laughed, saluting the poltergeists as they stopped spinning. "That's why we wear white. The colours you've collected by the end of the night will forecast your future. Green is luck, that shade of blue is vitality..." The ghosts hadn't finished unveiling. They flew into the black rainclouds at force, and a deep, forceful growl echoed around the space, nearly shaking everyone from their feet. Then, in one sudden movement, the cloud exploding, sending golden snowflakes down on the crowd below. The ghosts were nowhere to be seen. Everyone went wild, cheering and applauding.

"I wanted to go with a dragon that barfed in Technicolor, but I was outvoted." Lydia jumped at Beetlejuice's voice in her ear. He grinned at her, picking her up and resting her in the air, three feet off the ground. "Now come on, let's take a look around!"

The night was a whirl of rich colours, diverse sounds and so much laughter that Lydia found her face aching. The smells ranged from burning incense to roasting insects, the sounds from screams of fear to exclamations of love, and the sights... she was so glad she'd brought her camera, snapping so many shots that were somehow dark and twisted, but also joyous and vibrant. She knew it was dangerous territory, but the way he kept grabbing her hands in the crowds, or the way he smiled and let her choose where they went, or the way he went out of his way to create photo opportunities for her... Lydia started to hold her breath, and began to so a very dangerous thing. She began to guess, to read into his actions. She began to think he might feel the same about her as she did about him, and imagine so many scenarios playing out... things that made her feel guilty and ecstatic all at once.

"This is amazing!" She yelled at Beetlejuice, over the sound of the Neitherworld's number one rock band, Arcade Pyre, giving a live gig. Or at least... she thought she did. He had been there not five seconds ago, and when she had turned around, he was gone. She couldn't see him anywhere, and wasn't helped by the fact that everything was white, or a mash of odd dyes and stains, all washed out by the mysterious umber light, which had been so peaceful before, but now had an edge of the nightmarish. Where was he? Her heart suddenly rose in her throat. She couldn't see Jacques or Ginger or the Monster either...

Beej had yelled at Lydia about going to get drinks, but whether or not she heard him over the music was questionable. He was fairly eager to jump away from the crowds and the speakers, so he kind of presumed she'd heard him. He wasn't too fond of that kind of music, but Lydia was having fun rocking out, and he was happy to give her the best Carnival she'd ever experience. He sighed, strolling up to the bar. In contrast to what he knew everyone was thinking about him, he had noticed how Lydia was now in the middle of her teenage years, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, good for her, growing up into a fine young lady. On the other hand, he couldn't stop seeing her as little Lyds, the smartest kid he knew. On the other "other hand", he wasn't sure he'd be able to trust himself around a legal Lydia... Also, why was he counting three hands?

Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts and turned to the barkeep, ordering two Maggot-ritas (non alcoholic, obviously), and flashed a civil smile to the banshee who stood at the end of the bar. The myths were half right, although to say they "wailed and screamed" was something of an overstatement. These days, a Banshee voice could easily be mistaken for a Beverly Hills accent.

"Happy Carnival." BJ smiled, waiting for the barman to make his drinks.

"Like, is it?" the banshee intoned, flipping back her long, black hair and revealing a shoulder that was like mossy marble. "I hear someone brought a breather in! Can you imagine? Ugh, I could just die... you know, if I wasn't already."

"Breather, huh?" Beetlejuice had been about to think of the banshee as attractive, but was now instantly put off. "Biolist", not to be confused with "biologist", was the term for ghosts who were prejudiced against the living, and BJ had no time for them. But as this banshee shrieked and laughed about how preposterous the idea was, he decided he was going to make time. Sure, he couldn't juice her or anything, but he'd been intrigued by the idea of "killing with kindness" for a while now. Or at least, irritating until he got a rise out of her.

Lydia's breath came in short, sharp gasps, making her chest ache as she pushed her way through the crowd, narrowly avoiding being crushed. She couldn't recognise anyone, and she was too small to see over the crowds. People danced into her, pushing and bumping, nearly knocking her off her feet, practically suffocating her as she struggled to get through. It wasn't fun anymore. She wanted to go home. The world was pulsating and revolving, things were looming out of the shadows at her, cackling and mocking her. She felt so small. Her heart raced, her pulse reverberating in her ears... she felt sick, and scared.

That was when she heard it. His laugh. His cackling, manic laugh, cutting through the noise of the band. She looked around, and saw Beetlejuice, leaning against a nearby bar, talking to a woman. She wore a long, elegant white dress that showed off her sharp waist and curving hips. Beelejuice was pushing back her jet black hair, laughing and joking, and staring straight into her eyes. It felt, to Lydia, as though the bottom had fallen out of her stomach. All the twisting, writhing fear she had felt not a moment ago suddenly disappeared, leaving a cavernous void that felt so cold and bleak... she choked back a sob, warily approaching them, like a child approaching a stray dog. She could hear snippets of conversation drifting over as the band stopped playing.

"... But I can ditch my babysitting duties and go some place quieter, if you'd like."  
Ouch. That wasn't just pain. That was pain like she had been stabbed, straight through the heart. She could almost feel her blood, so hot it must be burning her insides, bubbling out of the imaginary wound and filling her chest with fire. She could feel the fire spreading up, catching her whole face on fire.

"You jerk!" She screamed, running over and pushing him away from the ghost woman. Both of them seemed more surprised than anything, but the guilt (or, Lydia told herself, more likely discomfort at being caught) laced BJ's face soon enough.

"Lyds, what's..."

"You absolute ass-hole jerk!" She could feel hot tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away with her cape. "You disappeared; you left me, just to chat up some girl?"

"Hey babes, I only meant to get drinks, I wasn't going to be gone long..."

"You were going to ditch me!" Lydia was screeching, attracting the attention of nearby crowds, but she didn't care.

"I'm sorry, Lydia, I wasn't seriously going to..."

"You were, because that's just the scummy kind of monster you are!"

"Lydia! Calm down!" His tone switched instantly, from one of pleading to one of instruction. Lydia had her eyes screwed shut and was beating her fists against him, so she couldn't see the flame flash through his jade green eyes as he grabbed her wrists. "I didn't know you'd get so upset."

"You can't disappear off and hang out with other people like that! You can't!"

"Now don't start on what I can and can't do..."

"You're such a selfish jerk! You can't leave me on my own like that! You're my friend, mine!"

"Woah! I am not "your" anything, Lydia." He felt his own voice rising, although he was really struggling to control his temper. "You seem happy enough not giving a damn where I am most of the time, you can't expect me to suddenly do radio checks. I presumed you'd be fine on your own for five minutes."

"You bastard." Lydia hissed, actually hissed, stumbling away from him. She tore off her cloak, revealing her black leotard underneath. There was a deathly hush now. No one wore black on Carnival night. No one. She threw her cloak in Beetlejuice's face; her cheeks drowned in tears, her eyes still screwed shut. "Why do you need her? What's she got that I don't?" Lydia's mind was unhinged now, spouting words she had no idea she'd been thinking, without any way of stopping them. "If you want to get drunk and pass out on someone, why not look at me, huh? I'm all there, what else do you need?"

"Don't talk like that, Lydia..." It was a warning, not a consolation. It was an instruction. She was, at the very least, trying his patience.

"Maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be like that, like her. Why don't you want it?"

"Lydia."

"Or maybe you were more interested in me before I grew up."

"Lydia!" Beetlejuice held the cloak out in front of him, dropping it at Lydia's feet. He grabbed her face in one hand, bending down so he was staring her straight in the eyes. He was fierce, his lips set in a thin, hard line to stop himself from snarling, his eyes wide and staring, glinting like a knife beside firelight. He pinched her jaw, putting just enough pressure on that she'd fall still and listen to him. He took in her tear-stained face, her snotty nose... the magic of Carnival had clearly addled her brain. But if there was one thing he didn't appreciate, it was being talked to like that. Being accused of those kinds of things. He pushed her away, and she offered no resistance, falling to the floor.

"You, Lydia Deetz, are a spoiled brat." His voice rose in volume, as he plunged his hands into his pockets and drifted backwards, up and out of the street. "And you need to GROW UP!"

He disappeared with a crash of thunder, leaving Lydia, surrounded by sympathetic but wary strangers, with no choice but to go home and cry to her pillow.


	2. Chapter 2 The consequence Day one

Beetlejuice yawned, waking slowly as the room spun in front of his eyes. _Ow._ Magic was something like alcohol for dead people; it was addictive, you could get a buzz just off of the fumes, and if you over-indulged, there would be hell to pay the morning after. _Ow, ow, ow..._

Smacking his lips, relishing the stale morning breath, Beej threw his legs over the side of his coffin bed. Noticing he was wearing his black and white suit, although not exactly sure how, he rubbed his head gently and stood up.

"Eep..." He yelped, falling back onto his bed, feet recoiling from the stone cold floor. Growling, his brain now feeling like it had broken free of its moorings and was rolling around in his skull, he tried again, this time floating through into the bathroom. He never normally went in the bathroom, occasionally if he needed an emergency mirror or if he needed to throw up, but that was about it. But the bathroom held the Alka Helltzer, so to the medicine cabinet he went. As he dissolved the Alka Helltzer in a freshly 'juiced mug of coffee, and stirred in a couple of eggs and some splashes of Tabasco (he was never sure which hangover cure actually worked, so he had always just mixed them all together), he tried to remember the exact events of carnival night. Lydia turned up, they all went out, they had fun... he winced slightly, remembering something about an argument. He'd... argued with Lydia. That was going to cost him.

Taking his ultimate cure, he floated back through to his room. He remembered leaving her to go home on her own, being yelled at by Ginge, Jacques and the Monster for being mean to her... they said they hoped he got exactly what he'd asked for. Uh-oh, he grinned, absent-mindedly sipping at his utterly disgusting beverage. That would bite him. Ginger's voice, telling the old superstition, cut through his brain.

"_All that you say on Carnival night, will be with you until you set it right."_

What was it he'd said, exactly? Sure got everyone mad at him, whatever it was. And what had it been in response to?

He took another sip, stopping still in the middle of his room. He suddenly remembered Lydia, very clearly.

"_Why do you need her... why not me... maybe I want to be like that!"_

And, with creeping dread, his own words fell into his mind with all the weight and repercussion of a circus elephant falling off a highwire.

"_And you need to GROW UP!"_

"_... you need to GROW UP!"_

"... GROW UP!" Beetlejuice blurted, dropping his mug, not giving a damn as it fell to the floor, shattering into pieces and sending the hideous, goopy brown mixture everywhere. He covered the space between him and the mirror on his wall in two seconds flat, staring into it with anxious, darting eyes. "Come on, Lyds... babes, please just be ok... I swear to God, if she's the same as she was last night, even if she's royally pissed at me, I promise I'll never con again! Lyds! Lydia, come on!"

The room was empty, but the curtains were drawn open, and bright morning sunlight flooded the space. The four poster bed was empty, too, with covers in a mess, implying that it had been recently vacated. He heard the door open, sweat pooling on his brow. He gasped as a young woman he'd never seen before entered the room, wearing only a towel, her long, black hair hanging in wet ringlets down to her shoulder-blades. He was about to hide himself, when she turned, and caught his eye. Her eyes, so big and round, shining pools of melted chocolate brown, shone with joy.

"Beej!" She grinned, sitting down in front of the mirror.

_Whut?_

"You're back! Did Jacques move into his new apartment ok?"

_Whut the hell?_

"Listen, I know you've been looking forward to spending the week, but I've got a lot of work to do so you're going to have to promise me that you won't be too much of a distraction."

_Make that a deep-fried whut the hell with a side order of bacon bits, please?_

The young woman, who he guessed was in her early twenties, was smiling at him in a seductive, coquettish manner, her fairy-folk nose wrinkling and eyes sparkling cheekily to accentuate her impish grin. She had legs that never stopped, skin as smooth and pale as porcelain, and such subtle curves that would knock any man, alive or dead, for six. Hence the shocking conflict he experienced when he realised that her voice identified her, undeniably, irrefutably, as...

"Lydia?"

"Yeah?" She smiled again, although there was a hint of worry in her eyes. "You're quiet, Beej, is something wrong?"

"Uh... uh, no, no nothing's wrong... but, uh, have you still got that alarm clock that has the date on it."

"You know I do." She laughed, cocking her head to one side. "You complain about it going off every morning you're here."

"Could... could I just look at it for a bit?"

"Why?"

"Just... humour me."

A frankly adorable confused frown on her face, Lydia lifted the clock from her bedside table and brought it closer to the mirror. It was, according to the clock, twelve minutes past nine on the second of November. That much checked out. But it was, according to the clock, 2017.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd thought so." He sighed, mentally kicking himself. Well, she grew up alright. And he got catapulted straight to the point in time that she had.

"You ok?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I just... you look more grown up than I remember."

"What, you think I'm getting wrinkles?" She smiled again, watching him carefully, leaning back to get a more summative view of him. The towel wrapped around her body pulled tighter, making BJ very aware of her chest.

"Hah... ha... wrinkles? You look... you're fine." He swallowed, hoping to God he wasn't blushing. He had often looked at Lydia, but never like this. He could feel certain parts of him stirring (some more literally than others) which his brain condemned instantly. So very inappropriate, for so many reasons, but damn if she hadn't become a gorgeous woman. He cleared his throat, turning his back. "I should, uh... probably let you get dressed." He mumbled, scratching his head awkwardly, before turning to leave.

"Beej!" Lydia put her hand up against the glass, her deep, dark eyes sparkling with concern, her brow furrowed, her lips drawn into a pout. "You're not still mad about that argument, are you?" He made the mistake of turning around and looking her in the eye. _Oh god,_ he thought,_ that's a beauty that'll knock you out, bring you round and then do it all again. _

"Mad? Babes, what would I be mad about?"

"Oh come on, Beej. I was being unfair." She sniffed, crossing her hands in her lap and hunching her shoulders, not making eye contact. "You were within your rights to be angry at me, leading you on like that."

"_Leading me on?"_ Beetlejuice was slightly confused by this idea. _"She, the beautiful young girl, was messing with me, the older poltergeist? Lydia, what have you become?"_

"It was wrong of me to flirt with you and then expect you to wait while I went out on a date." She continued, risking a glance at him. Her big, dark eyes shone as she smiled, and he found it very hard to concentrate on what she was saying, rather than on silently reprimanding the growing pressure in his trousers.

"Well..." He began.

"The date was awful, as well. I hated him. He reeked of aftershave and cheap soap."

"That's... too bad..."

"I think I prefer my men just... reeking." Her eyes flashed as a half-hopeful, half-flirty smile fluttered across her face, making Beej's stomach do backflips. _No!_ He reminded himself. _Control! Control! You need to get out of here and figure out how to set things right!_

"Beetlejuice..." She was practically purring, leaning as close to the mirror as possible.  
"No, babes, I, uh... I have stuff to do."

"Beetlejuice..."

"I really shouldn't... I mean, maybe a quick cup of coffee, but then I gotta..."

"Beetlejuice!"

He appeared in the middle of the room with a crack and a flash of light, looking slightly shocked. "...split." He finished meekly, as Lydia stood.

"Beej, you said you loved me."

"I... whut?" In his absence, this timeline's version of "him" seemed to have been saying and doing a lot of things which, for one, Beej found rather confusing and hard to deal with when he was rapidly losing blood flow to the brain, but for another, he would have liked a quick summary from whatever Neitherworldly force had dumped him here. Just a brief synopsis would have been nice, but for now he was just going to have to play it by ear. He could try to explain to her that he wasn't the "him" she thought he was, but then he doubted even he would believe him...

Reeling at the amount of poorly placed pronouns wheeling through his head, Beetlejuice was slightly startled when he realised Lydia had crept up on him.

"I know you might not want me now, after what I did, but... Beej, I love you. So much." She ran her long, slender fingers over his chest, staring him in the eyes. Beej said nothing. He was pretty sure if he did open his mouth right now, he'd at most manage a whimper. She had grown into hi perfect woman. She looked like a glamour girl, but from the time when they actually were glamorous... He remembered those days well enough.

"You're going to need to answer me, at some point." She laughed, but he could see he was making her nervous. He cleared his throat, before moving away and sitting on the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Uh... Look, Lyds, I'm kinda torn here. I mean... you're a Babe, babes!" He looked up at her, grinning, as she relaxed slightly, holding her towel in place. "Uh, in fact, you'd be helping me out if you covered up a bit... You know me and will power." Lydia, looking slightly chastised, grabbed a bath robe from the back of the door and pulled it tight, shooting him a wry smile.

"Better?"

"Well, I can think clearer, if that's what you mean. Look..." He patted the bed next to him, and she sat down, leaning against one of the four poster columns. "You've become a smokin' hot beauty of a young woman. And any man would be lucky to have you. And... I kinda want that man to be me. But..." He waved his hands about, vaguely, still only taking occasional glances at her, knowing that he probably couldn't stay strong if he looked for longer. "I'm a ghost. Forget the fact that I'm way older than you, Lydia, I'm dead!"  
"You said that didn't matter before." Lydia wasn't looking at him, and was pouting in such a way that she looked like a naughty schoolchild, which didn't help Beej's confusion.

"Oh, yeah... I did..." He growled. If he ever met the him from this timeline, he swore he'd punch him in the face. Or... something... damn pronouns. "It... it doesn't matter, but it's something we've got to consider. Plus, I mean... You're a grown up, now, I can see that... I can... really see that, Lyds, robe." She blushed slightly, pulling the lapels of her robe tighter. "Thanks... but... uh... heh, lost my thread." With a flash of light, he turned into a ball of black and white string, floating a foot or so off the ground. Lydia laughed, resting him on the bed again. "Uh, little help?"

"I'm an adult." Lydia smiled a warm, caring smile that made Beej's heart flutter. She'd always had that smile. That smile that told you she cared about everyone and everything. But this smile was just for him, and he found himself struggling with something much more than the want to physically possess. He changed back to his normal self, and smiled back at her, his eyes suddenly very sad.

"You are." He agreed. "But I don't know if I could stop seeing you as my little Lyds. I've watched you grow up, kid. It's kind of hard to stop seeing you that way."

"Beej... I want this." She rested her hand on his, leaning forward. "I know we've had this conversation before, but... I've been to college. I've got a job. I've seen other men, been with other men... and none of them have made me feel anywhere near as happy as I am when I'm with you. We're practically a couple anyway, you said it yourself." Beej made another mental note to punch this-timeline-him in the face, but didn't particularly mind it. Right now, he found he couldn't stop staring at Lydia's eyes. "So what's the harm in going from being "practically a couple" to being an actual couple?" She rested her other hand on top of his, meaning that, short of separating himself from his hand, he couldn't really move. Not that he wanted to.

"I just... I want to be with you. I want you, Beej. Do you want me?"

"I..." He found his lips were suddenly very dry, and his heart was pounding. "I don't know... I know I want to kiss you." She leant in, sealing her mouth over his, pushing her weight down on his hand. Yes, he thought. This felt so right, as their tongues gently caressed each other, exploring the cavities of each other's mouths. He pulled his hand from under hers, whipping her around onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he gripped her waist, the soft cotton of the robe brushing against his dry, grey skin.

"I love you, Beej..." She whispered, parting from him just for those four words, which was as much as she could bear.

"I want you, Lyds..." he whispered back, as he rolled her back onto the bed, and she pulled him down with her.


	3. Chapter 3 The Romance Day one

He pushed her back onto the bed, her wet hair cold against his hands, her lips locked in a sensuous kiss with his. The way her slender hands caressed his chest and shoulders, slipping under his jacket and pulling free his tie, squeezing and gripping his torso; it nearly drove him wild. _This is wrong._ The thought bounced around his head, struggling to the front of his mind through the growing tide of lust. _This is so, so wrong! It's Lydia! Little Lyds!_ But "little Lyds" had grown up. That much was evident, even before she pushed him back to his knees and helped him out of his jacket, still locked in such a passionate kiss. Possibly for the first time in living and undead memory, Beetlejuice wasn't making any moves or trying to influence judgement in anyway. She was a tempest, a hurricane, and it was all he could do to hold on and follow her lead. Not that it wasn't enjoyable (he was having the time of his afterlife), but still that voice kept telling him it was wrong. This wasn't a case of him not noticing she'd grown up, or parting ways with her and then reuniting when they were both more mature. This was a case of waking up and suddenly finding himself catapulted forward six years. One night, she was fifteen, the next morning, she was twenty one. That had to be wrong...

_Sure doesn't feel wrong..._

Much to his surprise, he could feel her tongue darting against his lips, and he opened them gratefully, his own tongue coiling around hers, tickling the roof of her mouth. She made a gasping, grunting sort of noise, and her shoulders slumped for a moment, before her hands were pulling at his shirt buttons. They were both kneeling on the bed now, lips joined together, torsos mere inches apart, her warm fingers brushing against his icy chest, running lightly over his shoulders as she pushed his shirt off and threw it to the floor. She pulled away from the kiss, moving across his neck and shoulders and down to his chest. He bit his lip, rolling his eyes as her light, tickling breath danced across his skin.

"Lyds... wait, Lyds..." She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, almost ravenous. Resting his hands on her bare shoulders (so soft and warm, he was finding it rather hard to resist wrapping her arms around him and pulling her closer), he stroked a strand of wet, dark hair out of her eyes, and sat her back. "I... I really don't know if I can do this. I want you bad, babes, but... I don't know if this is..."

"You're so sweet." She whispered, a smile on her lips as tears sprang to her eyes. "Always worrying about me. You're my hero, Beej. My idol. Please... I won't pressure you for anything exclusive, honest I won't."

"Babes..."

"Just let me have this, please?"

"Babes, I don't know what illusion you've got of me up there, but I'd never sleaze around, especially not on you. I'm..."

"Beej..." Lydia, her eyes still wet with tears, but also shining with a mixture of fear, guilt and excitement, reached up and gently undid her towel, the corners grazing the curves of her pale, white breasts as she held it out, baring herself to him completely. "I'm yours if you want me."

His willpower told him this was wrong. His baser instinct hollered and wolf-whistled. His sense of pride told him he shouldn't be so easily won over, but then his sense of machismo reminded him how long it had been since he'd been with a babe like Lydia. Eventually, baser instinct won out, and before he could stop himself, he was on top of her.

His earlier thoughts about her tempest like nature were not disproven. It was an act of love-making so wild and energetic that he couldn't begin to describe; everything had been its purest, simplest act. If he thought something felt good, she did it again. If she thought something felt good, he did it again. They both rolled and writhed together, moaning and gasping in pleasure, until, after an unknown amount of time, they collapsed, spent and gasping, instantly reaching out to each other, him wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his other hand on her head as she nuzzled into his shoulder, resting her hands on his chest.

"Oh... Wow..."He managed to gasp, kissing her forehead and letting his head fall back onto the pillows. "So... your parents aren't here, right?

Lydia giggled, closing her eyes and placing her hand on his side, wrapping her legs around his and pulling herself closer to him. "You know they are. Would you ever dare do that while they were in the house?"

"Oh, you know better than to dare me, Lyds." He grinned, his arms stretching further down her body, ticking her waist, making her wriggle and squirm.

"Stop!" She laughed, trying to pry his hands away from her.

"Ha! You kidding? I could watch this all day." He stopped tickling her, but kept his smug grin, and left his hands on her waist. She slapped his chest, suddenly looking very self-conscious as she curled up and began to untangle herself from him. His face fell. "Aw, come on, babes. It's a compliment..."

She stayed silent, not meeting his eyes.

_Shit. You've made her feel bad. _He looked away, scratching the back of his head. Her room hadn't changed much, if at all. It was slightly more chic and elegant, but still the same mix of greys, reds and purples. The cobweb patterns were more subtle, and there were a few less skulls atop everything, but it was still the same vanity table, wardrobe and bookcase, black portfolio case hanging from it. An idea struck, and he smiled, watching her carefully.

"You been ok lately? Doing much work?"

"Yeah..." She sniffed, shuffling a little closer. "I had a commission come in for a theme bar in New York. They want surreal, gothic... nothing too difficult."

"Made a start on it yet?"

"Yeah."

He paused, watching her shuffling closer but still not looking at him. He grinned, smirking at her.

"You want me to juice us up some waffles? I'd love you to show me."

Her eyes lit up and she gasped at him, giving him a very tight hug before leaping out of bed and pulling on a black summer dress and a grey jacket, babbling about how she had some in her portfolio but the best ones were downstairs, and how she'd make coffee since it would be easier for him, but he was happy to just watch her running around, bright and full of energy. Ok, so maybe he'd wished himself into a different time. Maybe he'd jumped into it without looking, but then on the other hand, maybe he'd hit the ground running. They'd both made wishes. They'd both gotten them.

The day passed in something of a dreamlike manner; they floated around the large, empty house, hugging and kissing each other spontaneously, looking through Lydia's many photo albums (which certainly helped Beetlejuice get the facts straight about what had happened over the last six years) and occasionally falling back into fits of lust whenever the mood took them. As they sat curled up on the couch, watching TV, Lydia sipping coffee, he felt that this may have been one of the best things to ever happen to him.

"Do you... want to stay the night?" She glanced at him, hopeful eyes betraying her outwardly calm appearance. He grinned.

"Hmm... go back to my mouldy old roadhouse and sleep with nothing but roaches for company, or stay here with you?" He smiled, posing thoughtfully. "Tricky... I do like the mould..." She pouted for a moment, seemingly unsure whether he was joking or not, but as he leant over and kissed her, she seemed to relax. He had noticed that this older Lydia had something of a sore spot when he made jokes about himself, or them, or other women... not in a bitter way, but simply that she didn't look like she enjoyed hearing him say that sort of thing. Maybe she'd lost her sense of humour a little... but then, she found all his other jokes hilarious. Maybe she was just tired. Grinning wickedly, inspired by the way the dim light played across her delicate features and porcelain skin, he took her hand and began to float up towards the ceiling, bringing her with him. Catching on to his sly expression, she blushed and smiled back, giggling as he gripped her, and then began to float freely around the house. If she was tired, she could rest up tomorrow. Today was for celebrating their new relationship in as many ways as he could think of.


	4. Chapter 4 The Storm Day two

Beetlejuice woke up in possibly one of the best ways possible; at leisure, to the smell of breakfast being cooked downstairs, with room to stretch out as much as he could, and the slow memory stirring of all the amazing sex he'd had yesterday. Man, that was fun. He yawned, enjoying the dry wheeze of his own morning breath, and scratched his back lazily as he stood, examining Lydia's room. So in six years, she hadn't changed her decor much. There were some new curtains, which were light and dark purple stripes, and her carpet seemed a little muddier than it had been previously kept, but he could live with that. He clicked himself into a pair of boxer shorts and a black and white bath robe, before slowly floating downstairs. This was a morning he could get used t-

A loud clashing and clattering from the kitchen caused him to crumple into the corridor.

"Crap-dammit!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet. "Alliteration... you know _I_..."

The cacophony continued, and Beetlejuice decided his powers would be better spent investigating than making witty, fourth-wall-breaking comments.

In the kitchen, the kettle boiled and turned itself off, the microwave beeped shrilly, and the toaster forcefully ejected its' load. But where was Lydia? Beetlejuice crossed to the back door, which was wide open, and saw Lydia, crouched in the middle of the garden on her hands and knees. The wet, dewy grass was leaving water and mud over her thin pyjamas, her bare feet (where not covered with mud) were raw pink from the chill morning air, and her hair stuck out at odd angles.

"Lydia!" Beej ran over to her, picking her up carefully. "What are you doing?"

She was gripping a frying pan in one hand, which was considerably dirtier and more dented than the ghost believed it was supposed to be.

"Beej! Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise..." She blushed, looking down at her feet. "I was trying to get some bugs for your breakfast. I was going to fry them up the way you liked..."

"Babes..." A slight chuckle escaped his lips, but his face was still contorted in a sort of incredulous worry. "You know I can just 'juice that, right? You don't need to go through all this just for me..."

"But I want to!" She nodded emphatically, gripping his arms. "I wanted to surprise you, because you can always 'juice anything, I wanted it to be special!" She bit her lip, cringing slightly, before pushing past him and going back into the house. "But that makes me sound stupid, doesn't it? I'm so stupid sometimes!"

"Babes... babes!" Beetlejuice zapped himself in front of her, before hugging her tightly and kissing her forehead. "Have you been sleeping alright lately? Look, you go upstairs and get the mud off you, I'll sort breakfast." She broke into a joyous grin, a dreamy gloss forming in her eyes as though he'd just promised her all the money she could ever want, an end to world suffering, and a puppy for every child.

"You're so sweet sometimes, Beej. I'm so lucky to get a ghoul like you!" She kissed him on the nose and left for the shower. Beej watched her go, feeling quite torn. Literally, in fact, as he split into two identical clones. They blinked at each other.

"Wow." Said Beej.

"Tell me about it." Beej replied.

"I'm not sure if she's all there."

"But it's been six years." Beej hopped up to sit on the kitchen island, examining the fruit bowl. "The apples are starting to rot. Want one?"

"Nah, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Beej spoke through a mouthful of rotten apple. "But yeah, six years. People can change. She's grown up."

"Yeah, and lost her sense of humour. She's a little bit... odd, know whut I mean?" He gestured to the dirty, dented frying pan that sat on the side. Beej shrugged.

"True, true. But... you honestly gonna complain about it?" Beej raised a quizzical eyebrow at Beej. Beej merely winked. "Come on. You don't get much action like that alive or dead."

"Tell me about it. I wouldn't mind letting her go..."

"As long as I got to watch!" Both Beejs grinned, leering and laughing.

"Smart, sweet..."

"And that thing she does with her hair..."

Both Beetlejuices lapsed into a moment's honorary silence, staring into the middle distance. They started guiltily, looking at each other again.

"She's off though, right? Not normal?"

"Out of sorts, maybe, Beej but... I wouldn't sweat it. It's probably nothing."

"Right." Beej hit his palm on the counter top, wrapping an arm around Beej. "I should pull myself together, make breakfast and quit worrying."

"Right." They both parroted, before pulling themselves together to create one, unified Beej. "Probably nothing." He shook his head, zapping the kitchen back to its Delia-standard norm, before making a start on breakfast.

The thunderstorms brewed overhead in that glorious way they only seem capable of towards the beginning of winter, where the sky is a tumult of grey and blue, and the air stirs like a dragon waking from slumber. The TV babbled to itself as Beetlejuice and Lydia finished the remnants of breakfast while pulling ridiculous faces at each other. Lydia giggled as Beetlejuice curled his tongue around a coffee mug three times and proceeded to constrict it until it was five inches taller and only a half an inch across. A flash of lightning made them both look up from their amusements, and the crack of thunder that followed it caused Lydia to run to the window.

"Wow..."

The rain fell in slick, silvery sheets, dancing across the landscape the way grain dances across old film, light struggling to get through the clouds. Beetlejuice rested one hand against the glass, gripping Lydia with the other. The one thing he never got tired of was weather. A lot of ghosts felt the same way; you didn't get weather like that in the Neitherworld. It was a treasure designed for the living, which they would sadly never appreciate until they were dead.

"Do you ever look out at thunderstorms and... feel the electricity?" Lydia was staring out into the rain, the light from the window causing strange silhouettes to splash across her face. "It's like it's going all through the earth, and you can feel it... do you ever get that?"

"I used to." Beetlejuice nodded. "When I was alive. Now I'm dead... I'm pretty sure the power you feel is the same kind of stuff I use to 'juice things, but I don't know. It's great to look at though."

"Beautiful." She sighed and gripped his hand, absent-mindedly stroking her cheek with his finger. "Beej, you mustn't ever go away. Moments like this make me realise that I can't ever be without you." Beetlejuice looked down at her, caught slightly off guard by this statement. Because it wasn't a question or voicing a whimsical voicing of a thought. It was a statement of fact, said in the same manner someone would tell you the milk was off or you needed to get more eggs.

"Beej?"

"Yeah... well, you know me, babes. Just call me and I'm here." He smiled at her, and looked out over the roaring storm. "Hey, your camera's waterproof, right?"

Beetlejuice did not like bathing. The soap irritated him, the water always felt very claustrophobic, and he felt the entire process took too much time. A lot of people took this aversion to bathing as something linked to hydrophobia which was not necessarily true. Certainly, as they ran out into the yard, screaming with laughter as Lydia snapped pictures, experimenting with light levels and reflection, Beetlejuice felt invigorated, feeling the cold water pulsing against him, the electricity crackling through the air.

Beetlejuice saw Lydia lining up a shot of the house, bending at the waist and elongating one leg in an attempt to balance on the ever slickening mud. Grinning, he stood behind her with one leg either side of hers, and gripped her waist.

"Need a hand?" He smiled down at her, leaning over so that his face was inches from hers. She blinked at him with her big, doe eyes and his grip increased. "Wow... you know, those eyes of yours... they just make me weak at the knees." He instantly regretted is, as with a lot of his literal translation ticks, but before he could say anything to counteract it, his knees gave way and he slipped, pulling her down with him, and they both ended up skidding down the somewhat saturated hillside, resting on the riverbank at the bottom. "Uh... sorry..." Beetlejuice bit back a giggle as he saw Lydia was sufficiently more covered in mud than he was. "Literal translation gags. You know _I_ ha.." he then made a noise that could best be described as a hurlk, as Lydia threw a fistful of mud at him and hit him squarely in the chest.

"You're horrible sometimes!" She pouted, but he could tell she was struggling against a smile.

"Well, if you want to duke it out here in the mud-pit, I wouldn't be against..."

"My camera!" She gasped, beginning to struggle back up the hill. "Where did it go?" Beej floated up into the air, lifting her up as well. The rain washed the mud away quite quickly, and floating a few inches off the ground eliminated any danger of tripping or falling, so by the time they found the camera and got back inside, they were clean (if soaked through). They dried her camera out and wrapped themselves up in towels, stoking a fire to sit by as they watched the rest of the storm play out from the safety of the couch. They lay next to each other, on their sides, Beetlejuice with his back against the couch cushions and one arm draped across Lydia's waist. His head resting against hers, nose buried between her hair and shoulder, he could feel himself starting to drift off to sleep.

"I love you, Beej." She whispered, fidgeting as she clumsily rolled over to face him. He closed his eyes, just to stop them from feeling so heavy. He couldn't help feeling relaxed, what with the fire and Lydia and the storm... he'd never admit it to anyone, but it was so cosy.

"Love you too, babes." He mumbled, wriggling deeper into the cushions.

"I want us to stay like this forever. Would you stay here forever, if you could?"

"Well I'm certainly very comfortable."

"Would you stay here, with me, forever?"

"You know me babes. The one thing I've got is time. And here seems the best place I could think of to spend it." He suddenly felt himself being pulled forward into a kiss, hungry and passionate. _Well done, Beej, _he thought,_ giving her the right answer, even when half asleep..._ He felt her hands caressing his face, her tongue caressing his lips, her body pressing up against him...

"Woah, hold on, Lyds... not now." He pulled away, dragging his eyes open long enough to grip her forearms, holding her still before stroking her cheek. He gave her a weary smile. "I'm beat, babes. Just... give me a little while to recharge, yeah?" His eyelids were drooping again, but he registered the petulant pout as she muttered an affirmative, before standing, awkwardly.

"I'll be in the dark room." She grabbed her camera from the table and left, giving Beej the odd impression he had done something to upset her, but at this point he was half asleep already. He would talk to her later. Once he'd recharged.


	5. Chapter 5 The Argument Day Two

"_All that you say on carnival night..." the voice lilted, it's Brooklyn accent pirouetting in Beetlejuice's ears as he stood at the foot of the towering mountain, staring up at the thick plumes of darkest black smoke that billowed from the top of it, casting a noxious, deep red gas over everything. "all that you say. All that you say..."_

"_Ginger?" Beetlejuice choked, casting around in the smog. "s'at you? Ginge, I can't see..."_

"_with you 'til you set it right. Set it right, Beej." The voice continued, unheeding as he groped through the ever increasing darkness, continuing in its' sing song tone. "With you 'til you set it right."_

"_Ginger, this ain't fun- whoah!" He gasped as the earth shook and rumbled with a horrifying roar. The voice laughed, getting louder as he struggled against the smog, which suddenly seemed not only thick, but physically oppressive, pressing him into the dirt. He gasped._

"_The fire's coming, Beej. Everything's about to come raining down on you, and you have to get yourself out of the way."_

"_whut?"_

"_Get out of the way!" The voice cackled as the earth shook again, and the black smog parted to reveal a spewing, boiling river of lava bearing down on him. "set it right! Set it right!" Beej let out a scream, struggling against the heavy smog, but couldn't get up. He could barely even move, but he struggled nonetheless, yelling and writhing against the invisible force that held him down, able to do nothing but watch as the stench of brimstone crept down the volcano towards him, the heat intensifying, the lava slowly looming over him-_

He fell off the couch with a thud, banging his head on the floor and waking himself up.

"Ow... good thing I can't bleed or I'd be in trouble..." as he pushed his nose back into joint, he tried to remember the nightmarish visions, which were already retreating into the darker, shadier corners of his mind. Must have been about sandworms. Or fashionista Ghostbusters. Something like that. Whatever. He yawned and rubbed the back of his head, slowly staggering to his feet and looking around the Deetz's living room. The clock on the wall told him he'd been out a good four hours, which was unusual. He didn't tend to nap in the day, and to sleep for that long was practically unheard of for him. There's nothing like being with a young woman to make you realise how much of an old man you were, Beej reasoned, straightening his jacket and looking around the room. The fire had burned itself out, and nothing seemed to have moved since he'd fallen asleep. So where had Lydia gone? He wandered down into the basement, working on a hunch, and sure enough he found her pegging up photos in the dark room. She hadn't heard him yet, he noted, grinning wickedly. He dissolved into the air, jumping into the first photo. It was an angular shot of the house in the rain, the trees bowing in the wind, where he posed as if being knocked backwards by an incredible gale. She glanced at the photo, but didn't seem to notice him. Not to be perturbed, he jumped to the second, this time, perching alongside a windswept raven. Again, Lydia didn't seem to notice. He jumped to the next photo, this time sitting on top of the house, with a watering can so it looked like he was making it rain. Lydia noticeably scowled.

"Beetlejuice, get out of my photos."

Beej blinked, dropping the pose.

"Babes?"

"Don't "babes" me, Beetlejuice, I'm still mad at you."

"Still mad? For what?"

"Get out of my photos."

"Babes, what are you talking about?"

"Get out of my photos!" She shrieked (actually shrieked. Beej winced from the shrill noise).

"Ok, ok, sheesh." He jumped out of the photo, watching Lydia carefully. She was fumbling, brushing her hair away from her face, biting her lip and not looking at him. "What's got you mad?"

Now she was looking at him. Quite angrily, in fact. Beej found himself backing off slightly, as she glared him down with a fierce spark in her eyes.

"You! You've got me mad! I'm not your toy; you can't just pick me up and put me down whenever you want!" She reached out and threw one of her stop baths at him, her eyes glinting in the bleak amber light. Beej ducked out of the way, but some of the bath still hit him, bouncing off his chest.

"Ah, hey, Lyds, just 'cos I'm dead, you don't have to treat me rough..."

"How dare you!" Uh-oh, thought Beej. This sounded serious. Lydia continued, throwing other things at him, but he was prepared for it now, and simply ghosted himself so they'd fly straight through him as he walked towards her. "How dare you talk about how to treat people? After what you did to me..."

"What I did? Lyds, I haven't done anything!"

"Exactly!" She started backing away from him, making sure to keep a table between them. "Is that what this is to you, just a couple of cheap rides and then you can go, and leave me, and never talk to me unless you want..."

"Woah, babes, what the hell?" Beej found himself getting angry, but he knew he would have been ten times angrier if anyone else had said it. He was numbed chiefly by his concern for Lydia. Her eyes were wild, she clearly wasn't thinking straight... had she been drinking? No, she wasn't drunk, he couldn't smell anything, but... "I'd never do that to you."  
"But you just did!" She was starting to cry, looking at him with the biggest, most betrayed eyes he'd ever seen.

Beej furrowed his brow.

"You mean when I fell asleep?"

She continued to cast her big, mournful eyes at him.

He stared back, incredulity creeping in.

"You... you're kidding, right? Babes, I fell asleep. I've been flying around, making magic in more ways than one, if you know whut I mean..." Lydia continued to glare at him. Ghosting once more, he rolled his eyes and walked through the table, placing his hands firmly on his shoulders. "I've been doing that for two days now. I haven't used that much energy for a long time. Plus, I'm gettin' old. You put me in a room with a fireplace and a beautiful young girl to cuddle, whaddaya think I'm gonna do?"

She continued to glare at him for a moment, before softening, her eyes glistening with tears, and hugging him tightly.

"Oh beej..." She sniffed. "It's so good to know I can count on you... we survived our first fight! Now let's never fight again!" She hugged him tight, and rammed her mouth against his, pushing herself up against him and taking him by surprise, so that most of him bumped against the table, but his hand went through it and got stuck. As Beej struggled to pull his hand free, Lydia simply giggled and skipped from the room. The thought had occurred to him once or twice, but now he knew for definite. Something was up with Lydia, and he couldn't deny it any longer. He felt it had something to do with that awful Carnival curse (because wouldn't it be just his luck to have a problem with a curse that was centuries old) and, having seen Lydia be seconds away from throwing a jar of acid at him, he couldn't deny it any longer.

It had been difficult. He had resolved to sneak back to the Neitherworld while she was asleep, and pray he got back before she got up, but she never seemed to stop. She asked him to help her make dinner, she ate with him, she didn't like going to the bathroom without him waiting outside. It was eleven in the evening, and she still showed no signs of wanting to go to sleep. He was starting to worry.

"Babes, do you think you should maybe get some shut eye?"

"No." She smiled, but he could see her energy was false, overcompensating for her tiredness. "I'm fine. But, uh..." she fiddled with his tie, biting her lip and looking up at him. "We could go to bed... if you wanted."

Did he want? Not really. This wasn't his Lydia, this was a manic, crazed, needy woman who had severe abandonment issues. His Lydia was cool, confident, and secure. But he had a feeling it was the only way he could get her to fall asleep, so, plastering on a fake grin, he stroked her cheek and lead her upstairs, silently hating himself.

A lot could, and had, been said about him, throughout life and after, but the one thing Beej held dear was that he would do what he wanted when he wanted to. If he wanted to make his Lydia happy, as he had the first couple of times, then of course he would. Those times, he had been somewhat lost in the moment, concentrating most on the good noises and the bad noises. He wasn't selfish, but he'd been trusting Lydia to let him know if he was doing something right or not. But now he was acting more as a means to an end than anything, he was paying a lot more attention to what she was doing. He barely had to touch her and she'd be eliciting moans and groans. And they all sounded so fake, like she was doing it for his benefit. He found it almost unbearable, having her act away under him, writhing and grabbing, kissing him and moaning, which would be brilliant if he believed she was doing any of it honestly. He carried on, in the hopes of tiring her out, but he knew damn well he hated himself for doing so. This wasn't his Lydia. Not at all. People change when they grow up, sure, but he refused to believe his Lydia could ever grow into this.

When they had finished, he hugged her and pretended to fall asleep, waiting for her to drift off enough that he could slip off to the Neitherworld and find out what was going on. But she didn't fall asleep. After a while, he yawned and opened his eyes slightly, in the act of turning over, and saw that she was watching him intently, looking like she had no intention of sleeping. This was decidedly unhealthy, and also kind of creepy.

"Uh... babes, aren't you tired?"  
"I'd much rather watch you sleep."

"Of course you would..." Beetlejuice smiled, hoping the various curse words rolling around in his brain weren't deadening his expression too much. He cleared his throat awkwardly, before getting out of bed. It seemed there was nothing for it but the direct approach. "Babes, you know I hate to leave you, but I got to go to the Neitherworld for a bit..."

"I'll come with you!" Lydia sat up, grinning broadly.

"Uh, no, you have to... I mean... I'm getting you a present. It's a surprise, so you should stay here and... y'know, rest up, unwind. All that stuff."

"You won't be gone long, will you, Beetlejuice?" She was smiling, and her tone seemed innocent enough, but there was a glint to her eye that unsettled Beej quite badly. "I'd really hate for you to go away."

"Hey, babes, I'm not going to be gone more than, uh... a day? I'll be back here same time tomorrow, I promise."

"Ok." Lydia sighed, reluctantly, sitting back on her pillows and watching him, her big, dark eyes unblinking. "But hurry back."

"You know I will." Beetlejuice smiled and kissed her, before zapping himself into his suit and then the Neitherworld, in that order. "I'll hurry back as soon as I've figured out a way to fix you, Lyds."

He floated back to the roadhouse, his face set in a pained expression. It was hurting him, really hurting him, to see Lydia this... un-Lydia-ish. She had lost her independence, her intelligence, her strong mind... all those things that made him proud of her, gone, and replaced with absent-minded, slavish loyalty, which was really starting to worry him. It seemed to border on obsession, and he felt oddly powerless trying to calm her out of her emotional swings. He felt guilty, too, almost as though somehow he was responsible for her becoming this submissive, subservient girl. He was so consumed with his own thoughts that he didn't even notice The Monster until he'd walked straight into his hairy, bulky form and rebounded straight onto the floor.

"Well." In the apparent seven years since Carnival, The Monster had only gotten hairier. He didn't seem too upset with Beetlejuice, which was a first, but he did seem quite surprised. "Singe my hair, if it ain't Beetlejuice! Long time no see, partner!"

"Uh... yeah..." Beetlejuice smiled weakly, getting up and dusting himself off. "Hey, have you seen Jacques or Ginger around?"

"Jacques? Ginger?" The Monster repeated, as if trying to figure out a joke he couldn't get. "But... Beetlejuice, Ginger's not lived here for over a year. And Jacques moved out last week. Don't you remember?" Beetlejuice stared blankly at The Monster. The Monster continued, concern creeping into his voice. "He... He went to New Yuck city. You two had a huge argument, and you kicked him out... Beetlejuice, if this is supposed to be some cruel joke, I ain't laughing!"

"No, I... uh..." Looking up at The Monster, Beetlejuice suddenly felt very small. He could feel himself shrinking down, flattening out, becoming depressed. Ginger had gone. He had driven Jacques away. Man, this timeline's him was a major asshole. And Lydia...

"I gotta tell you something." The small, flat, black and white puddle blinked up at the monster, a frown forming on its' surface. "And you're probably not gonna believe me, but I need all the help I can get."


	6. Chapter 6 The Crux Day Three

"Naww." The monster snorted, disbelieving. "You're trying to trick me again, ain't ya?"

"Nope." Beej had returned to his (ab)normal self, and was sat on the kerb next to the monster. "All true, I swear blind." So saying, his eyes instantly fell from his head, and he managed to catch them out of instinct before they fell off the edge of the Neitherworld road, into the abyss. "Woah... they move fast... and to think the doctors said I had lazy eyes."

"Look here, Beetlejuice, it's no good; I just don't believe you."

"Oh yeah?" Beetlejuice pushed his eyes back into their sockets as the Monster stood and began to walk away. Beetlejuice ran after him. "Then how come I can tell you every little detail about stuff that happened seven years ago, but can't tell you what happened last week?"

The monster shifted, uncomfortable, before sighing.

"Alright. If all this did happen, which I'm not saying for a second that I believe, then I do know a story that might help you."

"A story?" Beetlejuice sneered, but then thought. He needed all the help he could get, even if it was one of the Monster's boring fairy tales. "Fine. Go ahead."

"You know the old rhyme about Carnival? All that you say..."

"Yeah yeah, til you set it right, I know." Beetlejuice snarled. He had a sudden flash of memory, picturing himself in his dream, at the foot of a lava spewing volcano while Ginger's voice mockingly chanted those words at him. He shuddered. "Can you get on with the story?"

"I'm gettin' there, I'm gettin' there, hold your horseflies. Now, the story is that the Carnival was first created by the same thing that watches over the Neitherworld, and brings ghosts here. They say it created the carnival to let the ghosts have fun and be friendly, but certain people took advantage of the kind offer. They messed it up and caused problems. So the Thing, whatever it was, put a curse on the carnival, saying that if you were going to cause trouble, then whatever you said would come true."

"So how does that help me?"

"Find the thing that brings spirits here, and you have a chance."

"Seriously?" Beetlejuice stepped back, glaring at the monster. "If I want to make Lydia un-crazy, I have to go find some crazy force that no one even knows exists? That's mad! I can't do that!"

"Well then you'll have to deal with Miss Lydia as she is." The monster shrugged, walking away. "Nice talking to you, Beetlejuice."

"Yeah... great..." Beetlejuice sighed, kicking some of the gravel on the road. So how the hell was he going to set this right? Anything he did would seemingly only make Lydia crazier. He couldn't find Jacques or Ginger to apologise, because he didn't know where they were. He was starting to feel very lost and alone again.

_Screw this._ He thought, clenching his fists. _I'm being dicked around by some non-existent spirit just because I happened to have an argument with my best friend? This is ridiculous!_ A little flame of anger started to seethe and burn inside Beej's mind, and thoughts like that, and thoughts of the crazed Lydia, sparked off yet more fires. He could feel his anger rising.

"Screw you!" He yelled, at no one in particular. "If there is some all-seeing spirit thing, then it is not doing its job! I'm a scumbag, I get it. I deserve to be punished for all the bad shit I've done, fine, but what the hell has Lyds ever done wrong, huh?" There was no response. Not even a lazy vulture flapping across the sky. "Answer me!" He snarled, bending down and tearing a chunk out of the road, before flinging it off into the abyss. "I said answer me, you useless sack of shit!"

Beej suddenly felt very woozy. It was the same losing-the-bottom-of-his-stomach feeling he got whenever Lydia called him, telling him he was supposed to be somewhere else. But this was... different. More urgent. When a human called him, he could choose not to listen. But this... he could almost feel himself being dragged straight to the voice that had called him. He blinked. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't on the road any more. He was in a small elevator, with a rather wilted looking bell hop.

"Whut the..."

"Going up, sir?" The Bell Hop sighed at him, pushing buttons on the control panel.

"Where am I?"

"In the Elevator, sir." The Bell Hop sneered, as though it was obvious. The dim light caught on the gold badge on his cap, the only thing on him that wasn't red. But the badge was smooth and blank, like an un-pressed coin.

The elevator rose smoothly, and uninterrupted.

"What floor am I going to?"

"Floor, sir?" The Bell Hop tutted, before returning to staring at the door with his large, grey eyes. The bell hop said nothing more. Beej growled. He really wasn't in the mood for this cryptic bullshit.

"Alright, smart-ass, what's going on?"

"You're in the Elevator, sir." The Bell Hop repeated. He was very small, with pasty white skin and limbs like wet noodles, his face droopy and grimy under a curtain of lank black hair. Beej wasn't sure if "lugubrious" was really the right word to describe the pathetic waif, but the only other word that came to mind was "phlegm-y", so he figured he'd go with "lugubrious".

"Yeah, no shit. Look, if you don't start coming up with some useful answers, I'm going to..."

"What, sir?" The Bell Hop suddenly took on a much more snide tone, his big grey eyes suddenly sparkling with a wry gleam. "You'll get steamed?" Beetlejuice felt his face heating up, to such a point that steam began to spew from his ears. He clapped his hands over them, trying to cover how much he'd been caught off guard by looking tough.

"Hey, jack, I don't..."

"Or perhaps you'll get worked up?" Beetlejuice could feel his torso expanding and stretching, shooting up until he bumped his nose against the ceiling of the Elevator.

"Hey!" What the hell was going on? Yes, Beej had a problem with letting his imagination run away with him. Yes, he sometimes had a literal translation tick, but that was him. He wasn't doing any of this. How was that miserable worm doing it to him?

"Or..." Beej returned to his normal size and shape, feeling quite flustered and suddenly intimidated by the diminutive figure. The Bell Hop stared at him, looking him up and down with those large, glinting grey eyes. "Or perhaps you'll just stand back and let it happen." The Bell Hop shrugged, returning his gaze to the Elevator doors. "It's not my place to say."

After a while, Beej cleared his throat. "Who are you?"

"I'm the Bell Hop. Who are you?"

"Uh... I'm Beej."

"That's not your name." The Bell Hop glanced at him. "That must mean you're Beetlejuice."

"Uh, yes."

The Bell Hop nodded. Beetlejuice tried to relax, but found himself unusually tense.

"How did I get here?"

"How do you think?"

"Did you call me here?"

"Does it matter?"

"Ok, enough of the question game, this isn't getting me anywhere. I need to find a way to get Lydia back to normal."

"Who's Lydia, Sir?" The Bell Hop wasn't looking at him. Beetlejuice leaned against the back wall of the Elevator. He guessed he would have to ride it out.

"She's a friend."

"Just a friend, sir?"

"She's my best friend. And carnival night messed her up."

"Oh." The Bell Hop nodded. "_Carnival night. _Yes, sir, I'm sure that's what did it."

"Hey, just what are you insinuating?"

"I'm not insinuating anything. However, if you believe I am, maybe you're not at home with your beliefs, sir." The Bell Hop turned his big grey eyes on Beetlejuice once more. "Tell me."

"Tell you?" Beetlejuice forced a laugh, in an attempt to appear nonchalant. He knew he was failing that attempt, but as the Ghost with the Most, he had to at least make an effort. "Tell you what?"

"Whatever you feel you need to tell me. Sir."

Back in Peaceful Pines, Lydia had gotten dressed and gone downstairs, deciding to practice cooking a wonderful meal for Beetlejuice's return. Beej didn't know this. How could he?

He didn't know what Lydia was thinking, though from the way she moved, he would possibly have quipped something along the lines of "brains, braiiins". She seemed to be moving robotically, her limbs heavy, her eyes clouded with faraway thoughts, an absent pout on her lips. Even when she cut herself while chopping onions, her reaction was only the briefest reflex. She held her hand dutifully under the cold water tap, staring out of the window. Beej didn't know this. Where was he?

Her thoughts returned to Beetlejuice, for the second time that minute, and the ghost of a smile passed over her lips. She wanted him back with her. Whenever he wasn't around, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Of course, she couldn't stop thinking about him even when he was around, but she felt she had a valid point. Bee didn't know this. He'd left again. How could he?

How could he?

She slammed the tap off with more force than was really needed; a wave of anger surging over her quite suddenly. The kitchen was silent as she closed her eyes. He said he'd be back as soon as possible.

He'd be back. Of course he would. And then they'd get to be together again. She smiled.

There was a knock at the door, which Lydia cautiously answered.

The woman who had knocked on the door was a Jehovah's witness, who lived with her elderly mother and younger brother, who was currently going through what she termed a "home hospitalisation" period as she weaned him off the drugs she believed Satan had lead him to sin with. Therese, for that was her name, had dedicated her entire life to her faith, and wanted nothing more than to show people what she believed to be God's way, and lead them away from that which could hurt them or others close to them. She had suffered a lot, and had never lost her faith in god. Because of this, she wanted to share that unerring faith with others. Beej did not, and indeed could not, know any of this.

He also did not, and indeed could not, know how Lydia's sleep-deprived, obsessive mind could misinterpret Therese's statement that she wished to save her from the evils of the world, and lead her away from death, and the occult.

All Beej could do, as Lydia felt ideas form in her mind like knives cutting through toffee, was stand in the Elevator, and tell the Bell Hop exactly what he felt he should tell him.


	7. Chapter 7 The Elevator

The Elevator continued its smooth ascent. At least, Beetlejuice had assumed it was ascending, as that was what Elevators did, but this one seemed different. The brief flashes of light that passed through the small windows in the doors gave no real indication that they were actually rising, so they could have been going anywhere, in any direction.

"Sir?" The Bell Hop turned his doleful eyes on Beetlejuice, who was increasingly unnerved and annoyed by the whole affair. "I'm listening, sir."

Beej snarled.

"Why the hell should I tell you anything?"

"Because, sir, I will listen. I will not pass judgement, or comment, or question. For the duration of this journey, I will do nothing but listen to whatever you have to say."

"Yeah." Beej snorted. "Well, pal, I don't think we have time to even scratch the surface of..."

"Oh, we do." The Bell Hop interjected. He was facing the door again, but Beej could detect a definite sharp edge to his voice. "Believe me, sir. We have time." He turned to face Beetlejuice, leaning slightly against the control panel. Beej examined the Bell Hop, and realised for the first time that it wasn't apathy that coated his meagre frame, but weariness. It hit him with great force; the concept that the person he was in such an enclosed space with had experienced more than he could imagine. Beej felt himself recoil, as the Bell Hop turned his tired smile on him. "Tell me about this "Lydia"."

"She..." Beetlejuice cleared his throat, feeling like a humbled child. "I've know her since she was twelve."

"How old is she now?"

"Uh... See, that's the thing. Three days ago she was fifteen. But two days ago I leapt forward six years and now she's twenty one. If that makes sense."

"It's understandable enough." The Bell Hop was not judgemental.

"Well... It was the Carnival, see. We got into this argument..."

"Lydia was at the Carnival? Is she a ghost?"

"No, no, she's alive. I brought her through to the Neitherworld. I do it all the time. She has a lot more fun here than in the Real World."

"You spend a lot of time together."

"Yeah. But it's all good, clean fun, honest!"

"I didn't imply it wasn't. So the relationship between you two is platonic, is it?"

"Ye... well... it was. But, uh..." Beej paused. The Bell Hop raised his eyebrows, inviting him to continue. "Well... Before we jumped forward, I was starting to notice Lydia as a, uh... young woman, rather than a little kid. And I swore to myself I wouldn't act on it, because she was young, and she had her whole life ahead of her. And... you know, all those reasons."

"Do you think that was mutual?"

"What?"

"Do you think, since Lydia had started to become a "Young woman", as you put it, she was beginning to "notice" you?"

"I..." Beej stumbled. "I don't know. I never thought of it that way."

"You didn't think she'd develop feelings like that?"

"Not for me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I remember what it's like to be fifteen. But, come on. Look at me."

The Bell Hop said nothing. Beej sighed.

"So when I got put into this timeline, and found out that the Me that had been here had been saying things and making moves, I found it kind of hard not to pick up where he left off. We, uh, me and Lyds... we started something."

"And it's not what you thought it would be?"

"Well... no." Beej admitted, leaning against the back wall of the Elevator, staring at the ceiling. "She's not right any more. She's changed." The Bell Hop opened his mouth, but Beej continued. "And I don't mean in the way everyone changes when they grow up, I mean... I'm actually worried about her. She's not... She's..." He searched for the correct word.

"You feel she's behaving differently?" The Bell Hop supplied, watching Beetlejuice carefully. Beetlejuice nodded. "Give me an example."

"She's obsessed with making me happy. She doesn't like any jokes I make about either of us. She's running herself ragged to keep up this crazy ideal she has..."

"Do you think that's anything to do with you?"

"I'd just chalked it up to what she'd said at the Carnival."

"Oh? What did she say?"

Beej sighed, wishing he could lie and say he didn't remember, but he could see it all too clearly. "She thought I was flirting with some banshee chick. She screamed at me that she wanted to be like that, and be the one I went to for everything."

"Ah." The Bell Hop nodded. "And you told her...?"

"I said she needed to grow up. And here we are."

"Indeed." The Bell Hop scratched his chin. "Do you know what this timeline's you was doing for the past six years?"

"Uh... not really. Other than getting in arguments with everyone, I guess."

"More or less." The Bell Hop nodded. "He and Lydia have had, I believe, a turbulent relationship, veering between love and hatred, declaring they can't live without each other and then not speaking for weeks."

"Wait, how do you know?" Beej riled. The Bell Hop merely shrugged.

"I never stated how much I knew. I merely asked questions, and you answered them."

"Well then, how about you do something useful and tell me how to fix her?"

"What do you think has made her so obsessed with you?" The Bell Hop was suddenly irritable, clearly not appreciating Beej's tone. "You think that she deserved to be treated like that, ignored by you, pushed away by you? To claim you are someone's friend, Beetlejuice, and then ignore their feelings to you... do you not think she deserved more than that?"

"Hey!" Beetlejuice started, glaring down at the Bell Hop. The Bell Hop held up his hands.

"Hey you're self, they're not my words." He continued to lean against the console, staring up at Beetlejuice with non-plussed, weary eyes. "That was what Jacques said to you. That was the thing he said to you that made you kick him out. Do you think he deserved it?"

Beej opened his mouth, but wasn't sure how to respond.

"I... uh... Jacques... said that?"

"Verbatim."

"So... is that what I did? I was ignoring her?"

"You refused to believe she could feel that way about you. You refused to acknowledge she had feelings. Rather than discussing them with her and treating her like the young adult you claim you saw her as, you ignored her feelings entirely. Whether you did it intentionally or not is a separate issue, and something I don't think you'll want to get into now."

"Wow..." Beej blinked, stunned. "So, she turned into this crazy, needy psychopath because I wasn't comfortable admitting she was growing up?"

"These are all your words." The Bell Hop shrugged, checking his wrist watch. "Not mine. But, you may want to consider this..." He moved away from the control panel, returning to stare at the doors. "You went through all this effort, all this trouble... you came to the Neitherworld to try and fight a curse that you can't prove is real, to get your Lydia back."

"Yeah, so?"

"That was your first thought of how to fix this. You didn't once stop and consider that twenty one year old Lydia might need help. Might need conversation. Instead, you wanted to change her back to her fifteen year old Lydia. And, if I may be so bold, sir, the fact you'd leave a "crazy, needy psychopath" alone on the off chance you could change her back implies something about your feelings on the whole situation."

Beej said nothing. The Elevator stopped, timing with a sickening lurch in Beej's stomach.

"What... d'you think she'd do anything?"

"That's not for me to say, sir." The Bell Hop sighed, flashing Beej another glance from his weary, watery eyes. The wall Beetlejuice was leaning against suddenly slid away, and he found himself falling through darkness. "Good luck, sir," he heard the Bell Hop call after him, followed by "and have a nice day."

Beej landed with a thud in front of the Neitherworld admissions office, seeing a steady stream of ghosts walk out, marvelling at the world they now found themselves in, many sporting various injuries and deformities. These were the people who had just been processed. He stumbled away from the crowds, towards a dead, twisting tree. He leant against the trunk, trying to gain his bearings for a moment. How long had he been in that Elevator? It suddenly felt a lot longer than he was sure it had been... he sat down in the dirt, pressing his fingertips against his eyes. He heard someone sit down on the other side of the tree. He didn't move, or acknowledge their presence. Then, he heard sobbing. Groaning, he rested his hands on his knees.

"Could you keep it down, please? I'm trying to think."

"Sorry." Whoever it was on the other side of the tree sounded like she was having the worst day of her afterlife, and Beej wasn't surprised. People didn't tend to hang around by the Admissions Office very much once they'd been processed. Too many bad memories. "I just... I can't believe I'm here."

"You were expecting to go somewhere else?"

"Yes." The voice sniffed. It was wavering and whispery, and soaked with tears. "I had always been told my good deeds would send me to Heaven. They told me in the office that this... isn't heaven."

"No." Beetlejuice agreed, then instantly felt bad as she continued to sob. "But hey, you're closer to it here than you would be if you were sent back to haunt the Real World."

She didn't respond. He sniffed.

"And hey, maybe if you carry on doing the good deeds, you'll get transferred up to Heaven."

"Is that possible?"

"I dunno." Beej shrugged. "I'm not exactly the sort of person who's ever going to get to go there, if you know what I mean."

The woman sniffed.

"You know, two days ago I would have taken that as a cue to save you."

"Death knock it out of you?" Beej chuckled morbidly, resting his head against the tree bark, closing his eyes slightly.

"Sort of. It got me killed, so I'm reluctant to try it again."

It never failed to amaze Beej how quickly a lot of folks adapted to being dead. It was something they just seemed to accept. He supposed it was sort of like gallows humour; the situation was so out of hand that all they could do was deal with it.

"I just hope my mother and brother will be ok without me."

"I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Thank you... funny to think I've been in that office for two days and you're the first person who's actually had a conversation with me."

"Yeah, they're not so good at the interpersonal skills..." Beej mumbled, before suddenly sitting upright. "Wait... what was the date, when you died?"

"November third, why?"

Beej blanched, or would have, if he wasn't too pale already. He had been in the Elevator longer than expected. He had been gone two days, not one.

"Shit... I gotta go. Good luck with the afterlife." He started to walk off, but the woman called after him.

"Wait!" He looked around. She had short mouse-blonde hair, and big green eyes, which were both easily overlooked for two reasons. One reason was that she was pretty but plain, and the other was that she had a kitchen knife stuck through her chest. Beej recoiled slightly as the dried blood stuck to her modest clothes and pale skin. "What's your name?"

"Beej." He replied, trying not to stare at the blood-stained handle of the knife.

"Beej." She repeated, smiling. "I'm Therese. Thank you. And may God see you safe."

Beej nodded, not really sure how to respond, and jumped back to Lydia's room. He hoped Lydia hadn't hurt herself.


	8. Chapter 8 The Conclusion Day Five

**AN- Some bad language cropping up in this one. Last chapter! Thank you all so much for the reviews and feedback, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you're jonesing for more Beejfic, check out my Beetlejuice/Animaniacs crossover. It's called "Disenfranchised is a rather tricky word" and is quite silly and fun.**

Beetlejuice arrived in Peaceful Pines without trouble, meaning Lydia hadn't said his name again. That was something, at least. He arrived in Lydia's bedroom, noting that the curtains were drawn. The bed covers were in a crumpled heap, her clothes had not moved from where they had fallen when he was last here. The lights were all off.

He poked his head out into the hallway. The lights were all off there too, and he couldn't see any light seeping up from downstairs, either. The house was cold.

He walked downstairs, his feet heavy on the floor. He suddenly felt very tense, and found himself aware of the silence saturating the house. As he moved downstairs, he discovered he was only moving further into the darkness, and silence. At the foot of the stairs, he stopped. From there he could see the front door, which was closed and locked, and a mysterious black shape slumped against it. He felt his curiosity rise.

_Curiosity killed the cat, Beej._

But, Beetlejuice reasoned, licking his dry lips and trying to shake off the nagging sense of dread that clawed in his stomach, I'm no cat, right? He edged towards the shape, discerning features as he grew closer. Features like arms, legs, a chest, a face... and a kitchen knife sticking through the heart. Blood caked the figure's lank, blonde hair, and dried on the floor around her.

Alarm bells and klaxons went off in Beej's mind, screaming at him just to leave it alone and go back to the Neitherworld, now.

Against his better judgement, he reached out and lifted up the figure's head. The face, its blue eyes wide and frozen, was a disturbingly familiar one. It was the face of the woman he had been talking to not one minute ago. Except, when he had been speaking to her, she had been distinctly less corporeal.

"Shit!" Beej recoiled, losing his cool instantly. His hands sprung away from her, and he leaped back, flustered. "I... just... fuck!"

"Beej?" The voice came from behind him, making him jump. He turned to see Lydia, sat in one of the chintzy arm-chairs, her bare knees tucked under her chin, her night-shirt hanging off her. Her hair was thick and greasy; her eyes were shadowed, more than usual, and heavy. "I've never heard you use that word before."

"Lyds, what the hell? Are you alright?"

"She kept talking." Lydia was staring at the corpse, watching it like it might suddenly spring to life and start screaming abuse at her. "She kept saying how she wanted to save me. Take me away from the spectre of death. I think she was talking about you. Saying she felt a deathly presence with me, and that that she would absolve me."

"Lydia..."

"She wanted to take me away from you." She looked at Beetlejuice now, her dark eyes set firmly on him, watery and bloodshot. "I had to get rid of her."

"You... uh..." Beej stared blankly as Lydia stood up, walked over to the stereo, and flicked it on. After messing around with the frequency, she settled on a station playing Uncle Kracker's "Follow Me". The happy, upbeat tune was horribly out of place in this dark house, with Lydia's twitching fingers tugging at her nightdress, making no effort to look less dishevelled.

"Babes, you're not right."

"Aren't I?" Lydia was quiet, almost whispering, but she had Beej's undivided attention. She spun around, glaring at him with pure, unbridled disdain. "And how do you know this? Maybe if you'd been here, I wouldn't have worried."

"Lydia..."

"You're my everything, Beej! My friend, my lover, my reason to carry on in this fucking meagre existence..." Hearing Lydia swear was enough to slap Beetlejuice into a stunned silence; he found himself unable to move any more than a blink. She kicked the couch, glaring at Beej, tears rolling down her cheeks. "My degree went to shit because I was too busy being at your beck and call. I've lost three jobs on your advice; good, paying jobs! I've lost friends and lovers because you didn't like them. And now you finally say that we're going to seriously try to stay a couple, and you run off and leave me for two whole days? Is that fair?"

"B... babes..."

"Is it fair?"

"No." Beej conceded, blinking. "No, it's not fair. But, it's not fair of you to expect me to have all the answers and be here by your side twenty four seven. I may be dead, Lyds, but I still need a little space every now and then."

"Oh, and don't I fucking know it?" She spat, her wild, unkempt hair making her look deranged. "Hasn't that been the line you've used to pass me off so many times before?" She stormed over to him, pulling him down by his tie so that she could scream into his face. "I've been committed to you. I've been loyal to you. For seven years, seven god damned years, all I've wanted is to have you want me the same way. All I've wanted is for us to be together. Why can't you just give me that?"

"Lydia, I..." Beetlejuice was legitimately scared. This wasn't Lydia, not his Lydia. He gripped her by the shoulders. "I didn't ask you to do any of this. Yes, it was wrong of me to let you imagine this kind of stuff, but I can't read your mind. You shouldn't be defining yourself by me!"  
"Well who else am I going to define myself by?" She sobbed, her bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks making her messy appearance all the more tragic. "I wasn't anything before I met you. Anything I could say about myself has been your influence! I just... I can't..." She turned away, running her hands through her hair, still sobbing, looking utterly lost. She crouched down, her head between her knees, her feet flat on the floor, curling into a ball.

"I don't know who I am unless I'm with you."

"Lydia..." Beetlejuice wasn't sure what to do. He tried reaching out to her, but he didn't want to touch her and have her freak out. "Lydia, I... I'm sorry. Please, please tell me what I can do. I'll do anything; I'll help any way I can! But... you're not well..."

"I need you." Lydia looked up, her eyes shining with sudden determination. She gripped his jacket sleeves, pulling him down so that their eyes were level. "I need to be with you forever, that way I'll always know just who I am."

"Whoa... Lydia, don't say that..."

"And we can be together forever." She sniffed. She had stopped listening. "All I'd have to do is take a knife. It would be so easy, right across an artery; I know where they all are..."

"Whoa!" Beej stood, hoping to conjure ropes to hold her still, but his heart was skipping beats. Just like when he was around sandworms, the fear was blind-siding him, stopping his 'juice from working properly. She ran through to the kitchen, and he found himself limited to running and grabbing at her, pleading and begging, but she wouldn't see sense. Eventually, he found himself screaming.

"Lydia Deetz, you listen to me now." He blocked her exit with his form, for although he had no supernatural powers, he was still a damn sight bigger than her. "If you harm yourself, not only will I not be able to see you again, I will not want to see you again!"

"What?" Lydia was startled into paying attention, staring at him with big, watery eyes. He held her shoulders, stroking her chin. He stared into her eyes, trying to push back his own emotion, which threatened to break through. His face crumpled, and he felt weary... weak.

"Lydia... you're not right. You're not the kid I made friends with. You're not the young woman I saw grow up. Please, Lydia, don't do this to yourself, or to me. Please." His eyes were honest, and filled with concern. He watched as her nervy, manic expression switched to one of dull comprehension, then one of sorrow. Her slender hands reached up to cover her mouth and her eyes closed. Her chest began to spasm, her breathing got heavier, and slowly she sunk to the floor, leaning on Beetlejuice as her entire body wracked with heaving sobs. Beetlejuice didn't resist. He sank with her, wrapping her in his arms, biting back tears of his own as Lydia's scared, confused moans and wails filled the silent house. His eyes fell on the corpse of Therese, and he found himself hugging Lydia tighter.

"Alright." He spoke, quietly. He was almost inaudible over Lydia's crying. "Alright. I'm done. You win!" Lydia continued to cry, pulling him closer. He raised his head, staring at the ceiling as he growled. "You win, d'you hear me? I can't set this right, not now, it's too late!"

Lydia's crying trailed off into whimpers as she looked up at him, still just as scared and confused.

"Who are you talking to?"

"The cosmos. The cosmos that screwed us both over because we said stupid things on the night of the carnival." Beej sat back, stroking Lydia's hair out of her eyes before pressing his hands against his face. The stereo ticked over, and began playing some god awful rock song that sounded vaguely familiar. Beej stood up, helping Lydia to her feet. He leant against the door-frame, closing his eyes and hugging her tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of stuff. And I wish I could set it right, but I can't. I'm not all-powerful, I can't fix everything..."

"I... I have to be alone." Lydia whispered, hugging him tight. He felt her slip out of his arms, and did nothing to try to catch her. He just stood, eyes closed, leaning against the door frame, recapping how everything had turned to shit in five days, pinpointing exactly how it had all fallen so spectacularly apart. The god awful rock song kept playing, getting louder and louder, until he found it hard to even think. He was about to ask Lydia to turn it off, when he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach.

He opened his eyes with a jolt, and found himself standing by a small bar, in the middle of the Neitherworld Carnival. He was wearing his white Carnival suit, and Arcade Pyre were thrashing away in the plaza a little distance away, crowds rushing to hear them. The scene was exactly as he remembered, but with one difference. Next to him, on one of the bar stools, sat a lugubrious figure with lank, black hair and silver-grey eyes, staring at him over the top of a steaming, colourful drink.

"Uh..." Beej stammered, staring down at the Bell Hop, who obliged with a shy smile.

"Everyone gets the night off for Carnival. That's why so much goes wrong."

"You... did you bring me back here?"

"Yes. I felt leaving you on that floor of existence would be cruel. So..." The Bell Hop's eyes flashed in a way that could have been mischievous or malicious; Beej really couldn't tell which. "I won't say anything if you don't."

Beej gaped for a moment, before stammering an affirmative. The bar man gave Beetlejuice his drinks, and the Bell Hop smiled at him, more warmly this time.

"Lydia, your Lydia, has so much potential. You aren't an ideal role model, but you owe her as much as she owes you. I hope this experience has taught you that much."

"It has." Beetlejuice nodded, picking up his drinks. "But don't ever do anything like it again or I'll make you into a snack for the sandworms."

"I won't, as long as you don't say anything else worrying tonight." They exchanged wry smiles, before Beetlejuice began to move away. The Bell Hop turned to the ebony-haired banshee on his left. "Happy Carnival."

"Like, is it?" The banshee sneered. The Bell Hop shrugged, before signalling for the bar man to refill her drink.

"If you make it."

Lydia was having the most fun she could ever remember having. The whole night had been amazing, and the way Beej had been leading her around, asking her thoughts... she turned to yell over the noise of the band.

"This is amazing!"

"Eh." Beej walked out of the crowd towards her, drinks in his hands. He gave her one, before downing his own. "Not really my kind of music. But I'm glad you're having fun." He shot her a wink, and then pointed at her, making her float up above the crowds so they could get a better view. He saw her, her fifteen year old self, exactly as he remembered, exactly the Lydia he cherished.

It was several hours later that Jacques, Ginger, Lydia and Beetlejuice all staggered back to the Roadhouse, waving goodnight to The Monster and Poopsie as they crossed the street. Beej, stepping aside as Jacques and Ginger entered, punched Jacques amicably on the arm.

"Happy Carnival, friend."

"Friend?" Jacques repeated, marvelling. "Zut alors, the Carnival spirit has certainly got to you, non?"

"Maybe, Jacques, maybe." Beej grinned, hands in his pockets. "Don't get too used to it; I'll be back to normal tomorrow." Emphasizing his point, he dug his pinkie into his ear, excising a large lump of wax. "Ooh, who wants earwax yellow in their colour predictions?"

"Beetlejuice." Lydia laughed, trying to sound stern. Beetlejuice stuck his tongue out at her, before raising a smug eyebrow as he saw her stifle a yawn. "I should probably get you hope kiddo... uh..." He caught himself, waving goodnight to Jacques and Ginger. "Young lady. C'mon, I'll walk you back to the door."

Lydia flushed with pride as she waved Jacques and Ginger goodnight, and was escorted back to the door by Beetlejuice. "Young lady." Not "kid", or "kiddo", or even "little miss". He was making a point, and she appreciated it.

"Well, let's see your colours." He grinned, looking over her poncho as they walked. "You started off with a little red, which is passion and creative energy... I figured I'd give you that since you've got it in spades... You've got green which is luck, blue which is vitality, purple is wealth, orange is fulfilment, and, d'aww. A big old splodge of pink on your back."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, at some point over the next twenty years, you're going to fall in love."

Lydia blushed ferociously. Beetlejuice, to his credit, made sure not to notice. "So, what was the highlight for you?"

They laughed and joked as they conversed throughout their brief walk, eventually coming to the door. As she was about to slip through, Beetlejuice grabbed Lydia's wrist, his face suddenly clouded with concern.

"Babes."

"Beej?"

"Promise me something."

"Depends what it is..."

"No, I'm serious. You're an amazing kid who's growing into a wonderful adult. I've been thinking about the future a lot today... well, for a while now, I guess." He looked away, biting his lip for a moment, his brow furrowed momentarily. He looked back, his eyes locking with Lydia's, his hands grasping hers. "Promise me you won't do anything unless you want to do it. Don't let anyone make you feel like you're worthless. Someday, you'll make someone very happy."

"Beej..." Lydia blushed again, but this time it wasn't from embarrassment. It was one that suggested she didn't believe him.

"Lydia, trust me. You're a special person. And you can do just about anything you want to do. Heck, you've turned me into a softie, Lyds. Me! So just promise me you won't waste your time on anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less. Even if it's me."

"What? Beej... ok, I promise." She giggled, giving him a curious look. "What's made you think of that?"

"Just... experience." He shrugged, noncommittally. He held out his arms, and they hugged, before she slipped through the door.

"See you tomorrow!" She grinned, as the door closed. Beej smiled, waving until the door was shut and had disappeared. He zapped himself back to the Roadhouse, changing into his pyjamas and climbing straight into bed, not even bothering to examine the colours on his Carnival suit. He'd seen enough of the future, and was content for now to know that he could stop it from happening. And, with that rather confusing thought, along with others concerning the correct grammatical application of pronouns and timelines, he slept.


End file.
